Demigod Origins
by Captain Wilson
Summary: Have you ever wondered the origins of the characters in my (s)hit A Collision of Worlds? No me neither but here they are.
1. Chapter 1

Dylan

"You ready Wilson?" Smith screwed his nose up at me. Our ship, HMS Hydra, was going into the Royal Demigod Gibraltar Docks. I sighed and ambled toward him. He stood at the front of the ship holding his pith helmet under his arm; he squinted his eyes at the sunlight and then looked at me.

"So Wilson," he said spitefully. "You ready to face off against the Spaniards?" I snorted. He was taller than I and a year older so I had to look up at him. I wasn't fazed however.

"Face off? Smith, perhaps if the Spanish decided to get off their arses and didn't pause to have a three hour sleep, I might be," I looked away from him.

"Your lack of respect for our enemies annoys me. We must be alert at all times Wilson!"

"Smith, don't talk to me as if you're my superior officer. You're not. You may be older than me but that doesn't make you better. We are both Corporals and equal to one another," I smirked. "Now I think I'll talk to the troops. If I die today I don't want my last conversation to be with a man with all the personality of a blank sheet of printer paper." And with that I left.

I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Corporal Dylan Wilson, I'm British and I'm 13. I'm also part of the Royal Demigod Army. "What's a demigod" I hear you cry. Well you uneducated cretin, a demigod (or Half Blood) is the son or daughter of a Greek God or Goddess. "Well that's quite a title!" You say. "Who are you the son of?" Well you nosey bastard, my father is the god of music, prophesies, the sun, healing and archery. "...Zeus?" No, Apollo, hence my angelic singing voice, amazing aim and amazing ability to tan despite my Britishness. "So why are you in an army?" You ask. Well, that's because in Britain and the Crown Colonies (no I will not call them Overseas Territories) the system for Half Bloods is that we are to join a form or armed forces (so far only Army or Navy) which is approved by the British Government and Royal Family. Many historical British figures were demigods like Winston Churchill and King George the First. Anyway, all over Europe i.e. Britain, France, Germany, Spain, Russia, Austria-Hungary (yeah the Austrians and Hungarians are like the Austro-Hungarian Empire, I doubt that'll be anything to worry about), Serbia and Portugal. Unlike the modern military we don't have assault rifles and cool things. No, we have the equipment, kit and weapons of the British Army circa the 1870s to 1900. If you've ever seen the film Zulu think of all that stuff. Also from a Demigod view the map of Europe looks like it did in 1914. Again, I doubt Germany's increasing attempts for power will come to much.

I walked down the steps into the inside of the ship (yeah, I don't know what the inside is called) and looked at the crew. People from ages of 11-18 were sitting around, talking, cleaning rifles, drawing, reading and some were discussing a screen play for a sequel to LA Confidential. I looked over and saw my friend Geoffrey. I walked over to him and sat down.

"Alright Private?" I said, startling him. He was writing in a book.

"Oh, yes sir!" He said grinning. "Forgive me sir I was just writing in my diary." He waved the book at me. I laughed.

"Your diary?" I raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were a woman."

"Oh come now sir!" He protested. "Military diaries are very popular. I even have a good title for it!" He seemed enthusiastic.

"Oh yeah? The Lone Sheep Shagger? The Forgotten Bloke from the Really Forgettable Home Nation?"

"No!" He was annoyed. I should probably tell you a bit about him. Private Geoffrey Edward had been my friend for a year now and we got on quite well. As you may have guessed, he's Welsh. From North Wales so he doesn't have the ridiculous accent associated with the Welsh, it's English sounding if you want to know. He had neatly combed black hair and (putting it nicely) was a tad chubby. His father was Hermes the god of messengers, thieves, stealth and probably something else. One of his ancestors had served in Rorke's Drift and won the Victoria Cross. Unlike his ancestor though Geoffrey had yet no medals but he was eager to change that soon.

"It's called the Young Man of Harlech and I think it'll be a bigger seller than The Catcher in the Rye," he said. Matter of factly. Then Corporal Smith sauntered in. "Oh here we go," Geoffrey pointed at him with a look of dismay crossing his face. I looked, and then I sighed.

"Right men! The Lieutenant has told me that we are to be docking in five minutes! So get your things together to give the Spaniards a right thrashing?" The crew cheered while Geoffrey and I sarcastically said "woo" and half heartedly waved a hand in the air.

We marched our way through the streets of Gibraltar, making our way to the barracks there. Something I should point out, in Britain our demigod bases are referred to as the Royal Demigod Barracks of wherever. I hear in America they call theirs "Camp Half Blood". What bollocks. Anyway, our regiment of foot was being lead by Lieutenant Hewitt. He was a decent bloke; he was in his mid twenties, blonde hair and was slightly taller than Smith. He was born in Pease Pottage so I hear. I was marching at the front, a bit behind him.

"You looking forward to giving the Spanks a good thrashing Wilson?" He asked looking back at me.

"Yes sir. I am sir," I told him. I tried to appear respectable to the officers. On his chest he wore two medals: The Service in Montserrat and The Service in Bermuda medals. The first being awarded to those who fought against Dutch Demigods for sea-control of the surrounding area in 2002 and the Bermuda medal for service against a cluster of Drakons found on the island in September of this year (only last month). So he was a good leader to have.

"Good!" He was definitely enthusiastic. "Never cared for the Spaniards! Never in me life! What about you Corporal?"

"If you ask me sir, 49 percent of Spain is asleep and the other 49 percent hasn't got a job." He frowned:

"And the other two percent?"

"Is Gibraltar sir." He laughed a great booming laugh. I expecting he was practising for if he was ever made a General.

"Good man! You keep that up and you'll be promoted by the end of the year!" I was stunned. I was only 13 (although I'd be 14 on the 28th of the month). An officer had never told me of promotion. It just seemed to happen. Like: "Say Wilson, you're a decent chap. Fancy being a Corporal?" Never had a decorated officer hinted to me that I'd be given such a position. Wait 'till that git Smith finds out. I smiled:

"Thank you sir!"

It was twenty minutes later and the sun was going down. Luckily we had just reached the barracks. We were greeted by a number of unfriendly faces belonging to the demigods there. However one seemed eager to shake hands and he was the head of the barracks: Captain Logan.

"Gentlemen welcome!" He saluted us as we walked in. We stood to attention. "At ease men." We did so. "So Lieutenant Hewitt was it?"

"Yes sir. Pleasure to meet you sir." The officers shook hands.

"Splendid!" Logan chuckled. He was an older man, perhaps 40. Oh yeah, don't think that just because I'll be 14 by the end of the month that we don't have people of all ages. We are a recognised armed force. "Tell me," he began. "How many lads have you got with you?"

"About 200 sir, we were told not to bring too many to start as those up on high think that there's still a peaceful solution."

"Bah!" Logan shook his head in disapproval. "Those on high are too bloody liberal. Still orders are orders and if we receive word from the Spanks by 11 O' Clock tomorrow morning we're to attack." He seemed to lose his frame of mind, likely reminiscing about how he earned his medals (I couldn't tell you what all four of them were but I did recognise the Montserrat medal). "Anyway, who's your second in command?"

"Wilson! Smith! Step forward!" Both Smith and I stepped forward. Smith being the kiss arse that he is saluted and stood to attention before I did.

"Corporal Kevin Smith! At your service sir!" He said enthusiastically, waving a salute.

"Corporal Dylan Wilson sir," I did the same. Logan smiled politely at us, and then he looked back at Hewitt.

"No Sergeant with you Lieutenant?" I felt so welcome.

"Again, those up on high didn't think it'd be necessary for one. Besides these chaps are the exact fighting material anyone would want!" He firmly patted my shoulder. "I can't think of anyone else under the age of 15 to have my back in a fight!" I was pleased, but I hid it.

"I-I'm 15 sir..." Smith seemed hurt. Good.

"Yeah well you're alright Smith," Hewitt sounded much less enthusiastic that time. I stopped myself from laughing. Smith and I hated each other from the day we met and has since kept trying to one up each other.

"Very good! Now I expect you're all tired and you'll want a good rest to be ready for Sammy Spaniard tomorrow morning." He turned. "Adams! Show this lot to their quarters!" Then back to us. "Breakfast at eight 'till nine everyone!"

Guess who I'm sharing a room with? Guess. "Your Welsh friend Geoffrey?" You suggest. No. Geoffrey had been lucky and managed to secure a room with four of his Welsh friends. I, being the ever luck filled git I was got to share a room with Smith.

"Rank has its privileges!" Logan told us when he told us we would be sharing. "Two Corporals like you should get to share in luxury!" "Luxury" was apparently a room with two beds, a desk, a matching chair, a rug and a decent view. Also it had Smith which frankly made the experience much worse for me. He sat at the desk while I lay on my bed. He was writing something I think. Lacking anything better to do I walked over and had a look.

"What you writing?" I asked.

"A letter," he snapped. "I don't see why it should interest you," he added spitefully.

"Believe me, it doesn't. But we have to learn to work together otherwise the whole regiment is as buggered as Bugger the Buggery at a buggering contest in Buggerland." He looked at me funny, and then sighed.

"I suppose, I'm writing a letter to my sister back at the barracks."

"You have a sister?" The idea amused me. Trying to imagine a Smith even more of a girl than this one was near unthinkable.

"Yes and her name is Laura," he seemed annoyed. "She's just graduated from training to be an officer."

"Your sister outranks you?" I laughed. "That's got to be degrading."

"She's just graduated and she's only a staff officer," he defended himself. "To Brigadier Macleod actually."

"Is she hot?"

"I beg your pardon?" He stood and looked me in the eye.

"Is she hot? It's an honest question. I can't see why you..."

"Stop talking!" He cut me off. "She wouldn't touch you with a 12 foot sterilised barge pole being held by somebody else. Especially once I've told her about you anyway!" He sat back down. And with that, the conversation was over.

After being woken by a soldier from Gibraltar and having a breakfast consisting of bacon and eggs, I was standing amongst the ranks of all the 500 soldiers (from my regiment and the one in Gibraltar). Captain Logan was standing upon a stage with Lieutenant Hewitt sat nearby him. We were all dressed in full Zulu Wars style uniform. I looked back and saw Geoffrey, we made eye contact and he nodded in acknowledgement. He was in the row behind me. Smith was stood next to me also and had yet to say a word to me since last night.

"We have not seen such an undertaking from the Spanish, so therefore we must fight. Gentlemen, the Spanish will try to expand their godly borders into our city home and we shall defend it to our last breaths! No matter how long it may take we shall not let them make us demigods of Gibraltar demigods of Spain!" He raised his fist and we cheered. "Forward men! Forward to victory!" Then, we started marching, marching to fight against all demigods of Spain.


	2. Chapter 2

Dylan

The rest of the troops and I were marching our way towards the border between Spain and Gibraltar. We had yet to fight anything yet so I wasn't worried so far. Being honest, I don't really know much about Spanish demigods or what they use to fight with. So it was entirely possible they'd be charging at us with swords and spears like the Americans or Colonials did.

Okay, I should probably explain some things before I charge into battle. The American demigods were embracing the whole "ancient Greece" thing. By that I mean using swords, axes etc. as opposed to us in Eurasia where we use rifles and other more modern(y) weapons. As I said before, our kit is that of the Scramble for Africa time so think the movie Zulu. Another thing about the Americans: The USA is the biggest hotspot for Demigod activity. Like Olympus is above the Empire State Building and Kronus attempted to take over New York this year using Typhon. "A what?" you ask. Basically it's a massive creature made of pure evil and it worked for Kronus. "Well, why didn't you Europeans help?" Well...we were busy. Yeah it's a weak excuse I know but they handled it. The now "legendary" Percy Jackson sorted it out. Anyway, we were busy building Half Blood empires. Yes! Empires! Cool stuff. What with Eurasia being such an Empire happy continent we were setting up colonial borders with our former colonies. Demigods from all over the world are loyal (I use the term loosely) to their European colonisers. In Africa places like South Africa, Botswana, Swaziland, Lesotho, Zambia, Kenya and Uganda are loyal to Britain. Places like Algeria, Tunisia, Mauritania, Mali, Niger, Burkina Faso, parts of Chad (it's complicated), the Ivory Coast, Benin, parts of the C.A.R, Guinea and Senegal are to France. Angola to Portugal and now it gets complicated. The area that was Tanganyika is German, as is Namibia, the Togoland area and the Kamerun area. Yeah, because the Demigod world, is the actual world: Circa 1910.

Anyway, our officers marched at the front and Captain Logan kept going on about how he felt that Spaniards were even worse than they "Eye Ties" (Italians). Poor Lieutenant Hewitt kept saying "Oh yes" or "I see" even the occasional "I quite agree". I was standing in between Smith and some other Corporal who must have been from the Gibraltar barracks. I considered starting a conversation with Smith, but the events of last night were likely still present in his mind so I tried the other bloke instead.

"You alright mate?" I asked.

"You talking to me?" He asked. His accent was a mixture of Spanish and a southern English one.

"No. I'm actually talking to Pope Gregory the 9th. Who happens to be right where you are standing." He chuckled.

"Ah, the great British sense of humour," he looked nostalgic. "The name's Thomas Phillips. I'm 16 and I've been working at the barracks for four years now."

"Your godly parent?" I enquired.

"Ares."

"So you're handy to have in a fight?" Before he could reply I heard Smith snort.

"Oh please!" There was a sense of smug satisfaction to his voice. "Athena is the true war god. Ares could barley pull a twig apart!"

"Who's the wanker?" Phillips asked me. I saw Smith's eye twitch.

"This is Corporal Kevin Smith. Don't mind him; he's just annoyed that his sister would defiantly shag me when we meet."

"You really are a total bastard Wilson," he growled.

We had been marching for what seemed like hours when something interesting decided to happen. We were approaching the middle of the famous "Rock of Gibraltar" when the first shots were fired. From the top of the rock machine gun fire rained down upon us.

"TAKE COVER!" Logan yelled above the noise. Frantically, we scrambled in all directions diving for cover. Behind walls, rocks, cinema listing stands and anything that would provide cover for us. Now, I know what you're thinking: "Surely someone would have noticed a fire fight taking place in the streets of Gibraltar?" They would have, however we were surrounded by "The Mist". "Ooh," you say "what's that?" Well the mist is a magic shroud covering demigod based things. So the people of Gibraltar were likely seeing a hail storm and a school outing diving for cover while throwing pebbles at the Rock.

"Open fire!" Logan yelled, leaning out from behind his wall and shooting his pistol in the direction of the gunfire.

"Yes sir!" We all said collectively. We checked our Martini-Henry rifles were loaded with the Celestial Bronze Bullets.

A quick note on Celestial Bronze: Celestial Bronze is a substance that can only be used to kill demigods or monsters. Also Stygian Iron and Imperial Gold can be used. I believe Roman demigods use Imperial Gold the most (i.e. the French, Spanish, and Russians etc.).

Then we fired. I've got to admit: The Spanish are terrible shots. I don't know what gun they were using (probably a Maxim) but they hadn't landed a single kill. Somewhere in Gibraltar they may have succeeded in giving one dachshund a slight limp. We were much better. I heard sever Spaniards yell what I assumed to be rude words in Spanish.

"Wilson!" It was Hewitt. He was sitting behind a bench not far from me. I crawled over to him.

"Yes sir?" I said. Then a bullet knocked my helmet off.

"I want you to take two men and get their flank! We'll give you cover fire!"

"Isn't that a bit dangerous sir?"

"Do it and I'll make you Sergeant, introduce you to Smith's sister and give you three weeks leave to any colony you care to mention!" I hesitated:

"Swaziland?"

"YES!" The Maxim fire seemed to be getting louder.

"SIR YES SIR!" I scooped my helmet up and then called out: "Private Edward! Get here on the double!" I watched as Geoffrey crouched-walked his way over to me. He saluted.

"You called sir?"

"Yeah, we're taking the flank!" I looked around to see if I recognised anyone. Unfortunately the only familiar face was Smith. "Bugger it! We'll do. C'mon, let's go!"

"When we're done here," Geoffrey began. "I'll be glad to never climb a bloody mountain again." We were hiking our way up the Rock and it was no easy task. However, if we went in one of those crane things the Spanks would be using my nipples for target practice right about...now.

"Shh!" I turned to him. Then I pointed behind me. In that direction was where the Spanish had set up a post. Marching around were teenagers from ages 12-18 dressed in what looked like Spanish Conquistador uniform.

"That's awful strange," he whispered. "I expected them to be dressed in 1880s period-uniform like us." He looked quite perplexed.

"To be fair; the Spanish Empire was nothing to be proud of after the Cuban revolution and after they pawned off all their islands to the Hun. No wonder they're dressed like the Inquisition."

"Well no one expects the Spanish Inquisition I suppose," Geoffrey said plainly. I looked at him. And then we both laughed. Then we sprung into action. Slowly creeping across towards a small shack the Spanish were using to store things in. All around me I heard them talking, I couldn't understand any of it of course. I was going to ask Geoffrey as he could speak Spanish but I was interrupted by a Spaniard walking round the shack and bumping into me. Fortunately my bayonet was fixed and I stabbed him in the chest. Unfortunately he was wearing armour on his chest so my bayonet did nothing. Fortunately I stood and hit him with the stock of my rifle. Unfortunately he cried out in pain and alerted his comrades. There has yet to be a "fortunately" to that last part as about six men rushed to where Geoffrey and I were. Each of them was armed with a gun I didn't recognise. Some Martini-Henry knock off by the looks of it. They started talking about something I didn't understand. Then one hit me with his gun on the head.

I awoke much later with my vision a blur and I kept hearing a strange "bweee" noise in my ear. I groaned loudly and I made out that I was tied up in a poorly lit room changed against a wall. I had been stripped of my helmet, tunic and rifle. So looking at me you wouldn't know that I was a soldier of Her Majesty's own. Then I heard the door burst open (I couldn't see as the wall I was chained to was, on the side of the room where the door was). The noise was soon followed by a lot of shouting. Then a poofy little scream and I saw Geoffrey be pushed down into the chamber where I sat. Then two Spaniards came down the steps and chained him up next to me.

"Alright Private?" I asked, as he was chained up next to me. Then one of the Spanish demigods said something in Spanish. I stared blankly at him, and then I turned to Geoffrey.

"What'd he say?"

"He said that because neither of us have our tunics we are the same rank now." The Spaniard added something. "And that we will never escape here alive."

"Well tell him to sod off and go back to crying over his lack of an empire," I said, looking at the Spaniard.

"Certainly," Geoffrey said. Then he spoke in Spanish. Then I got smacked in the face.

The two Spanks left and Geoffrey and I were left chained to the wall. We had been told that we would never be rescued and that any escape attempts would be met with a painful death.

"We have to escape," I said plainly. Geoffrey stared in disbelief.

"But how sir?" He didn't sound optimistic.

"I don't know. But I have no intention of spending my 14th birthday locked up in some dingy Spanish prison. While I could be spending it in Swaziland rogering Smith's sister. All the while I'm a sergeant." Geoffrey chuckled.

"You're really intent on giving it to Laura aren't you?" He sounded bemused.

"Oh and you're on first name terms with her are you?"

"Yes actually. I met her once and we got on quite well."

"She is hot right? I don't want all this build up for a girl who isn't at least an Eight." Yeah I use the number system. It works.

"Oh she's hot sir. A definite birthday present for you," he laughed. "But seriously, how can we escape?"

"For you there is no escape!" Came a Spanish accent from above us. The accent then made its way down the stairs and stood in front of us. The accent was a 15 year old guy wearing a smart red suit with a yellow shirt. He had short black hair, combed to look fancy. He was tanned and was what many girls my age would find "irresistible".

"Well gentlemen, you are in quite the predicament," he said smugly taking a cigarette case from his coat pocket. The cigarette was one of those weird brown ones which only the French and toffs smoke. He lit it with and equally "toffy" lighter which was polished steel with a Spanish coat of arms engraved on it.

"Not as bad a predicament as you'll be in once I'm out of these chains," I growled. He laughed as he blew out some smoke.

"You are, as you English say, talking out of your arse. My friend," he smiled devilishly. "Forgive me for being so rude. I am Castillo Romero. My mother is Aphrodite and my father is a billionaire." He knelt down next to me. "I am rich beyond your wildest dreams."

"I see. Shame about the spit stain on your shirt," I replied.

"What stain?" I spat on his shirt. He growled and burnt my neck with his cigarette. He stood up quickly.

"How dare you disgrace the colours of my country's great flag! Soon this flag will fly above your colonies!" Geoffrey and I snorted.

"What?" Geoffrey smiled disbelievingly. "You Spanks are going to take over the British Demigod Empire? Don't make me laugh!" Romero smiled smugly.

"You English fools! Do you not see the rising tensions between us Europeans? In May of this year the German demigods took Alsace-Lorraine from the French Demigods. The empires, the race to arms and the tension. War is inevitable."

"So what? A demigod First World War?" I asked. "Unlikely mate."

"Yeah," Geoffrey added. "Besides after what happened in New York against Kronus is a huge deterrent for war." Romero laughed.

"I don't mean a war between Demigods and Monsters. A war of Demigod on Demigod. And as you said Mister Wilson, a demigod First World War. It will happen. But the ending will be different."

"What are you on about?" I really couldn't be bothered with this fanatic any longer.

"The Earth Goddess has plans for us all. Spain will be neutral and we shall rise! Every other demigod in Europe will be dead and forgotten and we shall take everything!" There was an insane glint in his eye.

"You're insane," I told him. "Even if there is war Spain won't benefit from it. Your Demigod Empire of Northern Morocco, Western Sahara and Equatorial Guinea won't help you take our or anyone's empire. Besides, you really think that demigods in Africa, Asia and Oceania won't stay loyal to us or the French or whoever?"

"You may have powerful friendships with the French and the Russians. But I have friends who control everything!" He snapped out of his preachy style and returned to his bastard rich kid. "Anyway gentlemen, I must leave you now." He made his way up the stairs. "I have a dinner party at seven and I have to watch your precious Gibraltar fall before me." And with that he left.

"Do you think they're still fighting out there?" Geoffrey asked as we sat at our dinner table. We had now been locked up for three days and the conditions hadn't gotten any better.

"Probably. Gloaty McPreacherPants would likely have come and told us about Spain's glorious victory," I replied.

"True." We were sat at a lunch table waiting for our daily meal. The meal being soup. Always soup.

"So you know the plan right?" I asked Geoffrey once I heard the murmur of Spanish voices outside.

"Yes sir." As soon as he said it the door creaked open and two guards entered. Each carrying a hot bowl of soup. The marched over to us and put the soup on the table. Then spat in it.

"Now!" I yelled. Simultaneously, Geoffrey and I grabbed our bowls and threw the soup into the faces of the guards. They cried out in pain and we punched them to the ground. We kept punching and kicking until they stopped moving.

"And now, the uniforms."


End file.
